


Back From The Brink

by AndreaLyn



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When all's said and done and they're back on the ship, Jim's still being haunted by the events of the past and he's not coping too well. (STID spoilers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back From The Brink

_“Shall we begin?”_

For all that Bones complains about it, space isn’t disease and darkness; it isn’t a madness coming to grip your soul and haul it out through your nose. Space isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you, it’s just a place where those bad things can exist. It’s where Jim died. It’s the place where Jim died and then when he was brought back, he waited a scant year before he jumped off the diving board into the deep end and hurtled his way through the stars.

Five years in space.

And this is only the start.

Jim jolts awake from his nightmare, Khan’s voice echoing through his dreams like a sinuous enemy winding his way through his subconscious. It’s more than that, though. It’s not like Jim wants to admit it, but there’s a superstitious part of him that worries that the transfusion did more than save his life.

He waits three months before he brings that very same concern to Bones. 

“Just give me a second, Jim,” Bones says, in the middle of chaos. They’re running behind on inoculations and their first away mission is coming up faster than anyone expected. The entire crew needs to be ready and the medical team is running short-staffed because they haven’t yet found a counsellor to help the largely affected crew of the Enterprise with their emotional issues. 

Bones, who specialized in dealing with the sort of mental tortures space can visit on you, is working almost eighteen hour days trying to get things done. Jim wishes like hell he could do something, but the PTSD his crew is suffering from worries him as much as seeing the bags under Bones’ eyes does. 

“Bones,” Jim says quietly when he finally gets the man aside. “We can hire more nurses, you know. A grief counsellor isn’t so hard, but...”

“What, so you can sleep with ‘em, like you did Chapel? Drive them away?”

Ever since Jim woke up to a new world, Bones has been like this. His edges are sharper and his words are like razorblades that aim to cut as deep as they can at every touch. Jim knows he deserves part of it – Bones has always warned him that if he died, he’d be facing this kind of wrath – but he’s so isolated right now that it hurts all the more. He’s got Spock and Uhura and Scotty to lean on, sure, but he still feels like they expect something of him. Jim misses the days when he could show up at Bones’ room with a bottle of booze and a movie and drop the facade the rest of the universe sees. 

He doesn’t think he’s spent any time with Bones alone since the five-year mission began. There are always people with them.

Bones looks ready to bolt, like he wants to go get his hands on the next round of patients coming in for their shots, but Jim’s impatience is starting to itch and chafe. He reaches out and grabs Bones by the wrist. The physical touch seems to slow everything down, at least for a moment. “Bones,” Jim says, quietly. “Dr. McCoy,” he adds, to make sure Bones knows how serious he is about this visit. “I really need to talk to you. In private.”

There’s indecision on Bones’ face, but inevitably he folds.

They go to Bones’ office and the privacy locks are employed on the doors in an instant.

“I’m having the nightmares again.”

“Kid,” Bones exhales tiredly, sinking down into his chair and letting his head collapse into his hand – like he physically can’t keep his head up without the help. “We all are.”

“Yeah, well, everyone else doesn’t have a maniac’s blood running through their system.”

Bones snaps up at that, like Jim’s words are a warning shot across the bow. Belatedly, Jim realizes how that must have sounded and his eyes widen in panic. “Jim..”

“Fuck, Bones, not like that!” he nearly shouts to try and calm the coming storm. “I’m not ungrateful about it,” he promises. “I’m saying that...” He breathes out, tries to compose his words so that he doesn’t sound like a raving lunatic. “Is there any chance, any possibility, that Khan...some essence, some part of him...could have lingered in his blood? Could be infecting me? Is there a chance my dreams aren’t dreams, but him coming to the forefront through my subconscious?”

Bones has relaxed somewhat, now that he’s aware Jim isn’t saying that bringing him back from the dead is something to be blamed for. “It sounds pretty farfetched.”

That’s not a no.

“But we’ve seen our fair share of crap, haven’t we,” Bones admits, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Have the nightmares increased in frequency?”

Jim nods. “I’ve been sleeping less hours, as a result.”

“Well, shit, Jim, so have I,” Bones laughs at that, the broken sounding laugh of someone who’s at his breaking point. “You know what I see in my nightmares? You know what mine are like? I watch them unzip the body bag and I stare at your dead goddamn unmoving face, but there’s no movement from the tribble. Khan’s blood doesn’t do a damn thing for the dead and you stay that way. You stay dead and I can’t do anything about it because you showed up on my table, without a damn breath in you.” He lets out a pained noise, this side of broken, and stares at Jim. “And you know what the sickest part of it is, Jim? You know the worst part of those dreams? I sit there fucking relieved that you didn’t call me down there.”

“Bones...”

“Because if you did and I had to watch you dying, watch you beg me to end your life the way...” He takes a deep breath, bows his head so that Jim won’t see the tears in his eyes – but he does, because he notices everything – and then gets out a strangled and choked sound. “I don’t know what’s worse, Jimmy. You dying without me there or you dying and begging me to speed it up.”

Jim knows, in this panicked and heavy moment, two things.

The first is that they need to get someone up here so Bones gets a break and so he gets to talk to someone else. The second thing he knows is that he needs to grab Bones’ hand _right that second_ and haul it over to his chest, splaying Bones’ fingers over his heart. 

“What...?”

“Just,” Jim says sharply. “Shut up and listen. Feel that.”

The office goes quiet. Outside is the dull thrum of activity in the medical bay, but in here, it’s just Jim and Bones breathing together while Bones rubs his fingers up and down Jim’s chest, fingertips pressed against smooth cloth and responding to a heartbeat.

“You did that, Bones. You and Spock and Uhura and my brilliant fucking team,” he says. “You did that.”

Bones makes to move his hand away, but Jim isn’t done with him yet. He takes a step forward and grabs Bones by the wrist to hold him in place while Jim gets closer. “Luck worked out,” Bones says. His breath is shallow now, his eyes stuck on their hands now twined together over Jim’s heart. “I got lucky.”

“So did I.”

Jim licks his lips and moves even closer. Like he’s approaching a spooked animal, his movements are cautious and fluid, cupping Bones’ cheek and leaning in until he can rest his forehead to Bones’, tension bleeding out of every limb and every inch of his body as he indulges selfishly in what he hasn’t had in ages. 

“Bones, I...” Jim manages to start speaking, dryly. “I’m scared there’s some part of me that’s harbouring a fugitive. I’m scared that it’s making me want to do things that I...”

“Things?”

Instead of explain, Jim leans in and kisses Bones like he’s been wanting to since before Khan Noonien Singh ever showed up on the Enterprise. It’s no shade of gentle and it almost hurts Jim to finally do what he wants. He feels broken and like he’s searching for a magical fairytale kiss to put him back together, but this isn’t it. 

It’s warm and it’s desperate and it’s something and it might not fix Jim, but it’s what he wants more than anything in the universe.

“Bones,” Jim whispers, stroking his cheek. “Bones, not this. He could never make me want this, I...” 

He doesn’t need to protest because Bones takes over. He grabs Jim by the hips and, as if in some giddy delirium, the kisses are accompanied by a brash, relieved grin. Jim doesn’t have to talk about how he’s scared Khan’s sowing seeds of fear in him about this mission or how he second-guesses every command decision he makes now. He doesn’t need to attribute all of that to Khan, after all, when Admiral Marcus had done his fair share of damaging Jim’s confidence and losing Pike is still gnawing at him. 

Those things begin to slowly fade away, replaced by the insistence of Bones kissing him.

Jim lets out a throaty, hungry sound and it only eggs Bones on to deepen the kiss. He yanks at Jim until he’s straddling Bones’ lap, pressing closer as if the proximity will chase away all their demons. He wraps his arms around Bones’ waist and presses his face against Bones’ neck, content to breathe in deeply and take solace in the safety this gives.

“I’m gonna fall asleep like this, Jim,” Bones warns. “And I’ve got twenty-five more of your crew to get vaccinated.”

“Hire more nurses,” Jim protests grumpily. He tightens his grip on Bones, like that’ll keep him from drifting away. “Bones...” he exhales. “Will you come by my quarters tonight? I miss you. I miss spending time with you.” And if that kiss had been any indication, there’s going to be something to talk about between them. “And you need the sleep. Captain’s orders,” he says with a quirk of his lips.

The agreement isn’t immediate, but Bones slowly softens and nods his head. “I’ll be there at 2200, okay, Jim?”

“I’ll be waiting up.”

* * *

He’s not awake at 2200. The lack of sleep has been pushing Jim to the edge, so when he does fall to unconsciousness, he lets his body stay out like a light. Inevitably, he’s woken up by a nightmare. Before, it only happened half the time, but it’s been becoming more and more of a persistent problem. 

In his nightmare, he stands and watches as Khan is too much for Spock and Uhura. This nightmare ends in the both of them dying in an attempt to save Kirk, but it’s futile. Jim stays dead, Spock is dead, Uhura is gone. Bones is even more alone than ever and it’s all Jim’s fault, because he didn’t listen. 

“Jim.”

The nightmare doesn’t stop there. It’s cruel and twisted and continues. He watches the funerals. He sits and watches the crew grieve for so many bodies, so many friends, so many countless...

“Jim!”

And Bones, what is Bones going to do? What happens to Bones if Jim’s gone? What happens to him if he goes back to being like he was on that shuttle? How long can he last like that? The answer to those questions escapes him when he’s jolted out of his nightmare by a pair of strong hands gripping him by the biceps.

With a gasp, Jim wakes up, sitting up so fast that he smacks his head against Bones’.

“Fuck!” Bones growls.

“Shit!” Jim whines in return. “Bones, that hurt!”

“Maybe you should’ve woken up the first five times I shouted your damn name, then!” 

Jim’s breathing heavy and hard, the images from the nightmare so vivid and so clear, it’s like he was actually there in some alternate timeline. It scares him to think that might be true. Maybe Khan had more abilities than he ever let on. He rubs at his face and leans forward, terrified as he thinks about all the possibilities he had never even considered until this very moment. 

“Hey,” Bones says, nudging him lightly with his elbow. “Budge over.”

Jim looks up to see Bones is dressed for bed. He’s come here specifically intent on sharing the bed with Jim and staying with him through the night. Sure, it’s something they’ve done before, but with the echo of that kiss lingering over his lips, it still makes Jim more than grateful that it’s something he’s willing to do.

“If proximity doesn’t work, I might ask Spock to meld with you,” Bones says quietly. “Might reconcile some of the shit in your head and get a second opinion about whether this is just stress or whether you’re carrying some piece of Khan.”

For this alone, Jim wants to cry with relief. Bones believes him, in some sense. He hasn’t just dismissed him as crazy, he hasn’t pushed Jim’s concerns aside because they’re next to impossible. Instead, he’s willing to investigate them.

“Bones,” Jim murmurs in a hush, staring at his CMO with new wonder, “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Figured that one out. You’re an honest drunk, Jim,” Bones says, inching ever closer in the bed until there isn’t an inch of space between them. “Except I don’t know that I ever reciprocated and let you know that I love you right back. I love you so much that if you die again, I _will_ kill you when you get out of it. Don’t try me,” he warns.

Jim inhales deeply, exhaling slowly, until his slow breathing and Bones’ proximity puts him in a sleepy trance that even nightmares can’t penetrate. 

It’s his first good night of sleep in weeks.

It’s a shame it can’t last.

Another week passes and while Bones is done with the crew’s inoculations, they now have to start working on preparing for the away missions, which means inventories and physicals. They’ve brought up a grief counsellor, so Bones has been setting up appointments and sitting in on his own sessions. It means that Jim doesn’t get to see Bones as much as he’d like and they definitely haven’t shared a bed.

It means he isn’t sleeping, he’s half delirious, and that voice in his head is back.

“They’ll all turn on you, you know,” whispers that doubt. It doesn’t always hold Khan’s voice, but today it does. It likes to cycle through Jim’s demons – Nero, Khan, and in worse days, the disappointed voice of Pike and his father. “They’ve seen you at your weakest. What makes you think they’ll stand by you until the end? They’re plotting against you...”

“Stop.”

“And they won’t stop until you’re gone,” Khan says, clucking his tongue as if he’s truly sympathetic to the whole mess. “What a shame, Captain Kirk losing his mind so early...”

“Stop!” Jim shouts, turning around to strike the figment as if that will make him shut up, but his hand makes contact with flesh and blood. 

It’s Yeomen Harris and the papers he’d been carrying now litter the floor of the bridge. Echoing around him is a dead, pervasive silence that brings a humiliated flush to Jim’s cheeks. He stares in horror at Uhura, then Spock, allowing his gaze to linger with his First Officer’s as he knows what has to happen right now. 

Heart stuck in his throat, aware that there are a dozen witnesses and he’s practically losing his mind, he doesn’t break eye contact with Spock. “Commander, I’m physically unfit for duty at this moment and relieve myself to see the CMO of this ship. You have the conn,” he stumbles his way numbly through the words, aware that worry is shining through Spock’s face. “Spock,” he says, quieter. “I’ll be fine.”

“I do not believe that to be the most likely outcome at this time, Captain,” Spock replies.

“Not Captain,” he corrects.

“Jim,” Spock amends. “Please convey my deepest wishes that Dr. McCoy discovers a solution to your current situation.”

“Yeah, I’ll let him know,” he says, giving Uhura a flash of a smile. “Harris, I’m...” he tries to apologize, but the moment he gets close, Harris flinches back. “Sorry,” he finishes with a frustrated sigh. There’s nothing left to do but walk himself to the transporter and hail sickbay. “Bones, I’m coming down.”

“Jim, what the hell is going on, I’ve got reports coming in from all over the ship saying you’ve lost your mind!” Bones says, sounding out of his mind with worry. “What the hell happened?”

“I think I might be losing it,” Jim admits, laughing because it comes down to something as simple as that. “I’ll explain when I get down there. You might want to prepare a sedative. I’m going to need some sleep, it’s been a week since I was able to get any.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but he’s sure Bones can do the math – the last time he slept properly was when he and Bones were still sharing a bed and the same breathing space.

He leans heavily against the wall of the transporter, rubbing at his temple and trying to drown out the offensive of voices in his mind. When the doors slide open, he drags his feet into Bones’ domain, sinking down onto the nearest biobed and waiting. 

He counts to ten. 

By the time he reaches six, Bones is at his side. “What happened?” he asks, hushed. “I’ve heard all sorts of goddamn rumors, but I don’t trust the damn things.”

Jim gestures to his temple. “I keep hearing voices in my head. Khan, Nero, my father, Pike...they keep telling me things, acting like my critical subconscious with a megaphone. It gets worse when I don’t sleep,” he explains, turning his bloodshot eyes towards Bones. “And right now, Bones, I’m not sleeping. I lost it, hit a yeoman.”

“Shit,” Bones sighs, loading up a hypospray. “Jim, I’ve got enough to put you out for a full twenty-four hours. You willing to be out for that long?”

“Spock’s got the ship,” he says, assured of that. “Do what you have to.”

Bones nods and leans down to brush a kiss to Jim’s forehead, cool lips brushing aside sweaty strands of hair as he injects the hypospray into the flesh of Jim’s neck. “Sweet dreams, Captain. Don’t do anything stupid in the next twenty four hours.”

Jim smiles drowsily and under the influence of drugs, mumbling a lazy, “Nothing you wouldn’t do,” to Bones before the world vanishes under a curtain of darkness.

* * *

It turns out that Jim doesn’t have to do anything stupid because he’s already been a monumental idiot by losing control in front of his whole ship. When he comes back to alertness, he can hear Bones, Spock, and Uhura quietly arguing over his bed. “They can’t be serious!”

“There were witnesses.” That’s Uhura, strained but always civil. “And Harris is requesting a transfer. It doesn’t look good, not when you combine the fact Jim isn’t _actually_ cleared for duty and people are starting to talk.”

“What do they expect?” Bones growls, one hand protectively clutching Jim’s. 

“I’m sorry, doctor,” Uhura says. “They want to strip him of his command as of 1800 hours, today.”

“I have been assured that it would be a temporary suspension,” Spock says, as if that’s supposed to make it better. Jim’s tired of eavesdropping on a conversation involving him. He turns and groans, clutching Bones’ hand tighter than before as he gives everyone an accusatory look, sitting up in the biobed. “Jim,” Spock greets him. “You look twenty five point six times healthier after resting.”

“You look pretty too, Spock,” Jim says wryly, turning to Bones. “How long do they want me out for?”

“They want you to rest for a mandated period of a month,” Bones says, scowling. “And hell, Jim, I don’t know that I disagree with the need for rest, but not for a month! I’m calling, I’m getting the brass on the horn and I’m planning to give them a piece of my mind. Month,” he scoffs. “As if they can really suspend you for a goddamn month. Who the hell do they think they are?”

“Starfleet Admiralty,” Jim replies, his mind working through what a month without work would mean. “Bones,” he says. “Bones, I can’t lose the ship that long, I can’t...”

“I know, kid,” Bones says. “And you and me, we’re gonna fight this thing,” he guarantees with a flicker in his eye that promises that something’s going to crash and burn at the end of the day and it isn’t going to be them. “Uhura, you think you can open a private channel to them in my office. Spock? You might want to clear out of here before you implicate yourself with us. There’s a real chance I’m about to get myself in even more trouble.”

“Understood, doctor,” Spock says with a cant of his head. “Jim, please continue to mend both mental and your physical health for the benefit of the crew.”

Jim lazily salutes the Vulcan as he walks away, rubbing at his temples while feeling grateful there isn’t a voice in his head currently tearing apart his life into shreds that make him feel worse about everything. It doesn’t take Uhura very long to complete what she’s been requested to do and soon she’s ready to leave, too. 

“The channel is linked in your office,” she says to Bones. “Be careful,” she insists. “We need the both of you.”

Jim exchanges a look with Bones. Considering he’s been asleep for twenty-four hours, he doesn’t feel near enough rested for this. “Now or never, Bones.”

Bones tightens his grip on Jim’s hand and leans in. “Let ‘em sweat for a minute or two,” he says, framing Jim’s face with his hands and staring at him with a look Jim hasn’t seen in ages – the look of someone so damn worried for someone else. He wonders if Bones looked like this when Jim was dead; knows he can’t ask a question like that. “Jim...” he whispers, swallowing audibly. “I’m about to argue like hell for you, but I need you to make me a promise.”

“Anything, Bones.”

“Rest. When this is all said and done, I need you to rest. You need to rest and I’m gonna be there. I don’t plan on leaving your side or your bed and if that’s what it takes, then I’ll do that for the rest of my life to make sure you’re okay,” he swears.

Jim, already feeling lightheaded and somewhat woozy, doesn’t miss the implications of that statement. 

“Bones...”

“C’mon, we’ll talk about that part later. We’ve got a command team to bitch at,” McCoy urges, tugging on Jim’s hand to get him on his feet and into the private office where they’ve got a two-man battle to rage against a team of men who think Jim’s incapable of doing his job.

* * *

Jim doesn’t get smacked down with a month’s suspension. It’s not a week, either. For all of Bones’ talents, diplomacy isn’t one of them and whatever hope they had of receiving only a week’s worth of punishment went out the window when Bones had creatively called the head of the panel a ‘donkey’s cock-sucking uncle’. Points for creativity, but definitely not the sort of thing you say when you’re trying to make things _better_.

Jim’s standing in his quarters in a pair of civilian clothes, feeling aimless and useless. 

Normally, at this time, he’d be reviewing the ship’s reports for the day or checking the security feeds, but all paperwork has been assigned to Spock and he’s been temporarily locked out of all feeds for the ten day suspension he’d wound up receiving.

Sure, he could hack into the feeds, but he’s pretty sure bad behavior is only going to extend his punishment.

He hears the shower being turned off, the last droplets of water falling from the head and Jim grins to himself. The other argument against working constantly has just finished taking a shower – and it’s not like Jim didn’t warn him that it was pointless. With all this free time on his hands, Jim’s got a lot of ambitious plans regarding what he wants to do. Bones walks into the room, rubbing a towel over his head. 

He’s opted to only put on a pair of black boxer-briefs and Jim has never been happier for his water rations than he is right now, watching the droplets sluice down Bones’ chest. All those hours they’d avoided each other and ignored the issues, but Jim’s still here and he still gets this. It’s probably more good karma than he’s earned, but he isn’t about to throw it out the window. “Hey,” Jim greets him, running his slightly-sweaty palms over his shirt. “Bones, before you say anything, before we even talk...”

“What is it, Jim?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” Bones asks, rummaging through Jim’s drawers until he comes up with a pair of Starfleet sweatpants and one of Jim’s t-shirts from Iowa. Without asking for permission, he slides into them, like he’s always been allowed to stroll into Jim’s life like this. “For losing it? I’m surprised more people haven’t!”

“No, for...for dying.”

“You saved everyone’s life,” Bones says, voice going hoarse in that low and funny way that means he’s trying to repress a couple dozen emotions. “Mine included, but you save my life all the time. You saved me from missiles and black holes and alcoholism and shuttle crashes...I’m so goddamn mad someone could take you away from me, but I’m not even close to mad about your choice. I just wish...I wish I could’ve...”

“I wish you could’ve been there too, Bones,” Jim promises. “Next time.”

Bones crosses the space between them and grabs hold of Jim’s hips, pulling him flush against Bones’ body. “Next time better mean eighty to a hundred years,” he warns. “Or else you’re gonna learn what it’s like when I cross the divide between life and death to haul your ass back here just to punish you.”

“If that involves spanking, I might have to test that out...”

The low growl from Bones is _entirely_ worth the smack he gets at the back of his head. “Get in bed. You’re overdue about twelve hours of sleep and then you’ve got an appointment with a councillor when you wake up. If we’ve got another century together, I need to make sure you ain’t gonna drive me batshit in all that time.”

“Oh, Bones,” Jim sighs, but does as he’s told. “We’re way past that point.”

“Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”


End file.
